Memories from Springtime

When I feel like writing, You become my muse.
When I hold the pen, you flow effortlessly as ink.
From memories of you have spawned
Every word I ever wrote.

Every keyboard I ever tapped made weird sounds,
sounded like your name.
With every long breath that I take
Wafts in the fragrance of your shampooed hair.

You are the words the punctuations and the pause.
You are the intention, You are also the original cause.

8-July-2010

From Life in a Multiverse

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Spiral

Come Let us slice into each other With fine surgical precision You slash me here I slash you there And then When the storm is done I will patch you up And you tuck me up You bring the bucket I the mop the blood And together we will cleanse Our ancient hurts Our guilts And our fears Until we start again And over a cup of coffee You tell me My dear Just how much you love me And I shall tell you Just how much I love you.

Our Kind of Music

Together We might never dissolve fully Into each other But we will flow my love Like rivulets through paths untrodden And we shall make music Like pebbles rolling And water flowing And birds calling There are all kinds of music And such shall be ours.

Clowns in a Circus

The circus came to town I could see the posters of acrobats and hippos and giant wheels On shaky ancient auto- rikshaws Driven by incorrigibly happy Poor people. For some years now, I have felt like the joker Looking at a gallery full of fools Wanting to believe That what they see And live Is not sheer drudgery But liquid entertainment. I think Joaquin Phoenix fucked my world view Forever. And before that, there was the Matrix Or even, Joseph Heller Or maybe it was Gabriel Garcia Marquez Or even The Bhagwan who declared In his infinite wisdom That the infinity of our souls And the divinity of our beings Are sullen By the circus Of life.

Works of RK

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